Timeless
by Trunks lil' sis
Summary: Now grown, mature and in college, Stan and Kyle face two real threats to their relationship: Sheila Broflovski and Christophe. Faith, loyalty and honor can all be broken by words, lies, and a very angry mother.
1. Sheila Broflovski

**Title: Timeless**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Summary: Now grown, mature and in college, Stan and Kyle face a real threat to their relationship: Sheila Broflovski. Faith, loyalty and honor can all be broken by words, and a very angry mother.**

**Authors Notes: Due to demand, and a plot bunny I've picked the fandom of South Park back up. This is sort of a companion piece to "I Do" It's dealing with the same issues, merely evolved a bit. I would advise you to read it, but it isn't necessary. And while this was supposed to be a nice one-shot, it became so much more. So I've been forced to break the story into chapters.**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I probably don't own it.**

**Warning: This contains slash, and any grammar mistakes I make but don't catch.**

Timeless

Chapter One: Sheila Broflovski

It was very early one morning in early December when the phone awoke both Kyle Broflovski and Stanley Marsh. The sunlight was only beginning to stream into their bedroom, and the birds in the outside tree had just begun their morning calls. It was a Monday morning in Colorado.

The first few rings of the phone went unattended. Both men slept on, blissfully unaware of the nagging that was soon to come. The ringer was purposely set on the lowest volume level, and such an acted prompted them to sleep through the beginning.

However by the fourth ring Stan's eyes were beginning to open. Lazily he kicked around under the blankets, drawing his arm back from where it had been resting over his companion's shoulders. He groaned, rubbing some sleep from his eyes, sitting up halfway.

"_Hey, This is Stan and Kyle" Their answering machine began in Stan's voice. "We're not in right now. We're probably in class, or working or having se--" The familiar sound of Kyle smacking him in the head sounded through the small bedroom. "We're busy. Leave your name and message and we'll get back to you."_

"Kyle! Stanly! You pick up this phone right now! I know you're there!"

Stan slammed forward, diving for the phone. In his effort to reach the phone he became tangled in the sheets and blankets, falling off the bed, and taking everything with him. Behind him Kyle blinked slowly, rolling over to look at his boyfriend. "Whatcha doing?"

Stan waved him off, grabbing the phone off the receiver. "Hello, Mrs. Broflovski."

Kyle grumbled unhappily and rolled back to his side of the bed, grabbing the blankets off the floor. He wondered if he could block his mother out. Maybe pulling the blankets over his head and closing his eyes would actually accomplish something.

"Yes, yes, classes are fine, yes, I will." Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder Stan managed to find his way back up onto the bed. He glanced at the clock and groaned at the time. Kyle's mother had no sense of respect for the sleeping. "Yes, he's right here next to me."

With a quick yank Stan had pulled himself under the sheets and blankets, while throwing the cordless phone at Kyle. He closed his eyes, attempting to relax himself after talking with the frightening woman. Of course his partner's distress drew him out of his shell and he leaned towards Kyle on one hand to listen to the conversation.

"Do you have any idea how early it is?" Kyle asked his mother, flopping his head back down on the pillow. "This is the one day I don't have an early class or work." He sighed. "Stan and I were just sleeping. What can I do for you?"

"Kyle, what have I told you about--" The choppy voice came back. Kyle didn't need her to finish the sentence before he knew exactly what she was getting at.

"We've been over this a million times, mom."

"I can't help but worry." Kyle shot Stan an annoyed look. She was tapping into her concerned voice. "Boys these days will take advantage of you if you aren't careful. You and Stanley shouldn't be sharing an apartment, let alone a bed."

Kyle settled back against Stan's chest, allowing his body to mold against the bed once again. "Don't even start with that, mom. I've known Stan since Kindergarten, and so have you. If anyone is going to be taking advantage of someone it'll be me." Stan laughed loudly and Kyle elbowed him, knowing full well his mother could hear it.

"Kyle!" He ripped the phone away from his ear, eardrums ringing from the screech.

"Mom, Stan and I are very much committed. We're living together for a reason. We're completely monogamous, and you have nothing to worry about."

"Darling, if you ever come to your senses, I know a lot of nice Jewish boys. They won't take advantage of you, and they all go to nice schools. They'll treat you with respect."

Kyle coughed. "Mother, don't. Just don't even go there. I love Stan. We're faithful to each other, and have a sense of mutual respect. Stan and I have a very healthy relationship, and I don't need any other men."

But of course his words provided his mother with no reassurance. "You'd better be careful. I hope you're using condoms! Do you need any? I can get you some."

"Oh, Mom!" He dropped the phone, trying to hide his face.

"Gross, dude!" Stan remarked from behind him, making rather loud gagging sounds. "That's just so wrong, Kyle! Make her stop!"

Kyle rolled his eyes, picking the phone back up. He gave his boyfriend a rather harsh glare. "You're an adult now, Stan, how about you try an act like one."

"Sure, as soon as she stops offering me condoms. I find it a little hard to comprehend she doesn't have a problem we me screwing her little boy so long as we use condoms, but we can't live together or share a bed. I can screw you in the school bathroom, just not in our apartment?"

"Stan!" Kyle tried desperately to cover the mouth piece of the phone, but it was apparent his mother had heard and was yelling something to her husband. "See what you've done now!"

Stan merely blew air at him. "What's she gonna do? Drive all the way out here?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Kyle?"

He placed the phone back up to his ear, recognizing his brother's voice. "Ike? What happened to mom?"

There was pause on the other line. "Dad's trying to …. calm her down."

"Sorry about that," Kyle apologized, knowing how much his brother would have to put up with over the next few weeks. "Do you know what she called about?"

Realizing he wouldn't be getting back to sleep, Kyle dumped their blankets over Stan's head and rose from the bed. He was slipping his robe on as his brother responded.

"She wanted you and Stan to come down for Chanukah. Well, I'm sure she wanted Stan before…. yeah, and then Stan's mom wants you to stay with them for Christmas. Can you miss finals and get here for some of Chanukah?"

Kyle moved quickly through the hallway an down to the kitchen where he turned the coffee machine on. "Probably not. But I can try and swing some finals around. Maybe if I work something out with a professor I can leave early for the last couple of days. Will you tell mom that?"

He cracked the front door open, scampering out to grab the morning paper.

"Sure. Say, Kyle, what set her off? She looks ready to kill."

Kyle shook his head softly, very annoyed at his boyfriend. "I'd rather not get back into that. Just tell mom what I said and I'll call her later. Bye, Ike."

He tossed the phone down on the table and reached into the cabinet for a few mugs as Stan came into the room. "What'd she want?" He asked, taking his mug from Kyle's outstretched hand. Then he added, "I didn't get you into too much trouble, did I?"

Kyle shrugged. "Not the end of the world."

Stan knew better. "She'll bring it up for the next year or so."

"She's been doing that all my life." True. His mother still hadn't let his choice of college go. She had wanted him to attend Yale, or Harvard, not to mention Princeton, Brown or any other Ivy League school. She had even been willing to settle on Berkeley, but alas, Kyle had chose to stay closer to Stan and attend a Colorado University. And as the morning phone call proved, she had never really let go of his living with Stan. His mother had a tendency to latch onto things, and pout for years if she didn't get her way. It was just the type of person she was.

"She just wanted us to come up for Chanukah and Christmas."

Stan perched next to him, eyeing the coffeepot, nearly done. "You told her no, right?"

"You nearly gave her a heart attack. I told Ike maybe."

The coffee pot beeped and he jumped up. "Why'd you do that? I thought we already agree what to do this year."

Kyle held out his own mug for coffee. "I know, I know. Maybe if the call had gone differently this morning. Dude, I have to go now. My mom's going to go through a bunch of cycles if I don't, starting with guilt and ending with violence. Don't think she won't haul me down there personally." The Jewish male retrieved milk from the refrigerator, and sugar from the cabinet. "We have to go down there and spend time with our families."

"No we don't." Stan drew closer to Kyle, soaking in his body heat. "We agreed earlier this year we'd spend it alone. I don't want to deal with all the crap our families bring with them. Last year was an absolute disaster. Between your family nearly chewing through me for not being Jewish, and your mother interrogating me, to my family accidentally poisoning us. We don't need a repeat of last year."

"It wasn't that bad, right?"

Stan stole the sports section of the newspaper and sat properly in a chair. "Your mother threatened to castrate me."

Kyle chuckled nervously. "She'd just found out we'd been--"

"Been what, Kyle? Dating, living together, fucking?"

"Fuck off." Kyle flashed him his middle finger. "You were damn rude to interject that little fact right in the middle of dinner. It showed less tact than I'd seen in a long time."

Stan flipped past the baseball section, noting the Rockies had lost again. "It wasn't my fault you were a little pussy and couldn't tell her."

"And what the hell was I supposed to tell her? 'Gee, mom, guess what? You know Stan and I have been dating for a while, right? Well, now we're screwing like bunnies in heat. Have some more mashed potatoes.'"

On his way out of the kitchen Kyle swiped a large section of the newspaper and smacked Stan in the back of the head. "It isn't my fault my mother has high morals for herself and her family. She won't get off either of us unless one of us moves out or we get married."

"Never mind that isn't legal."

Kyle read through the business section of the news paper. "She doesn't care about that."

"Then tell me what to do." Stan frowned, resting his chin on his palm. "Every time she calls she causes crap for us. She's your mother, but she driving the both of us insane. That's the main reason we decided to stay away from South Park this year."

Kyle finished his section quietly, and drank the last of his coffee. Without saying anything else to Stan he quickly exited the room. He showed, dressed quickly, brushed his teeth and was ready to go into work early. His hair took a short while to style before he slammed a hat down over his head. One glance in the mirror told him his appearance was acceptable.

"I'm heading into work early," He called on his way to the front door.

Stan was blocking the front door. "Are you really?" He asked coldly. Kyle noticed he was clutching a pack of cigarettes in his right hand.

Neither Kyle or Stan smoked, and Kyle understood exactly what Stan was insinuating.

"What's with the lack of trust, dude. That's so not cool."

"What am I supposed to think? We're fighting all the time, you're spending all your free time at work and we only know so many people who smoke this brand and have a history with you. Not to mention your mom is calling more frequently, bugging you to dump me. What I think is perfectly natural."

Kyle pressed his lips into a thin line. "You idiot." He draped his scarf around his next and slipped his hands into his gloves. "You're a total idiot, Stanley Marsh. You're the biggest idiot I know if you believe I'd cheat on you. And for your information Kenny was over here yesterday while you were in class. He came by to hang because he and Cindy got into another fight. I took his cigarettes from him because he was chain-smoking."

Stan crossed his arms but moved to the side. Kyle passed by him, refusing his boyfriend his regular morning kiss. "Stan, I don't know where this recent lack of trust is coming from, nor do I know how many times I have to tell you I'm not interested in Christophe."

"He's certainly interested in you."

"That's just too bad for him." Kyle yanked the door open, flooding the apartment with cold. "I didn't bitch to you when Wendy followed us to this College, and I certainly don't fuss when the cheerleaders drool over you. I've got self-esteem and confidence in our relationship. This is something you obviously don't have, and I suggest you find it by the time I get home."

The door slammed and Stan huffed unhappily.

Kyle's mother always managed to plant a seed doubt in Kyle's mind. She always fucked things up for them.

Stan stormed off to get ready for his classes.


	2. Christophe

Title: Timeless

Chapter Two: Christophe

Summary: Kyle and Christophe set and break barriers. Stan nearly suffers a break down, and Kenny realizes his Jewish friend might not be nearly as faithful as he first assumed.

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Warnings: Slash, bad grammar on my part.

Chapter Two: Christophe

Kyle was instantly regretting his clash with Stan earlier that morning. Perched on the edge of a table, cleaning rag in hand he couldn't help but feel low. It wasn't as if he didn't recognize the problems his mother brought to their relationship, but instead, just as Stan, he didn't quite know how to deal with her. Ignoring Sheila Broflovski wasn't an option, they had learned first hand.

Across from Kyle, Christophe stood, his own rag in hand. "Hey, Broflovski, get off that toosh. I'm not paying you to sit around and look cute."

A firm shade of red covered his face as he hopped down. "You're not paying me anyway, your mother is." He gestured to the quaint French restaurant. "Unless you own the place now." With his retort said, he turned promptly to finish cleaning the tables.

Contrary to Stan's belief, Kyle knew full and well what Christophe wanted from him. He had made his intentions very clear from the moment Kyle had begun working there. However Stan obviously lacked confidence in their relationship. Christophe was a wonderful person, but Kyle loved Stan. He'd never betray the man who held his heart, and he could only pray Stan wouldn't either.

Christophe was forward, yes, but also respectful of his relationship. He had been rather vocal in his interest, but he had yet to invaded his personal space. He had never taken advantage of Kyle coming in early or staying late. He was a friend whom Kyle knew would always be there for him. He just couldn't help feeling a bit sorry, though. Christophe wanted so much more than friendship, and Kyle doubted that would ever happen.

"Have another fight with Stan?" Christophe questioned.

Kyle scrubbed harder at a stain on the normally glossy table. "Yes."

Christophe set down his rag. "I take it your mother called? Chanukah?"

The French man really knew him too well. Kyle realized he really ran his mouth too much.

"You have to put your foot down, Kyle. Stop acting like a little pussy and tell her you're not gonna take her shit any more."

Kyle threw his dirty rag at Christophe's head and deposited his cleaning liquid in a back sink. "That's my mother you're talking about!" His voice echoed through the kitchen. He shivered and flipped on the warm water.

"Yeah," Christophe appeared at the door to the kitchen. "But she's also making your life a living hell. She's fucking up your relationship with Stan. And while I'd normally love this, she's also making you upset. You're showing signs of depression."

Kyle waved to another member of the staff as he entered. "My mother doesn't quite know how to take a hint. She's positive if she pesters me enough I'll break up with Stan and date a nice little Jewish boy."

"But you like Stan the way he is."

"I love Stan the way he is," Kyle corrected. "I'm not giving him up without a fight."

Christophe sighed and rested his hands on Kyle's shoulder blades. "If you don't do something you're going to lose that fight. Stan's a tough guy, but even he has his breaking point. How do you think he feels being second best in your life? Always stuck in the back seat?"

"He's not second best. The difference is I can reason with him, while my mother is like Hitler." The Jew's frown deepened. "Okay, wrong choice of words. But she's totally unmovable."

"Come'on," Christophe nodded towards the back door. He fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket as they crossed the threshold into the cold. "I guess we're dumping our meetings, right? No more secret rendezvous?"

Kyle merely pulled his jacket closer. "You can't come over anymore--at least not for a while. You left your cigarettes at my apartment yesterday and Stan found them this morning. He's all uber suspicious now and I wouldn't doubt him stalking you or I for a while."

"Possessive much?" He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.

"Not possessive, just protective." He leaned against a brick wall in the alley. "Stan has always been very protective of things close to his heart. He's worried you'll hurt me. And he's even more scared of being hurt himself. His snooping and accusations are a defense of sorts."

"You shouldn't have to defend him."

A glare settled over Kyle's face. "You shouldn't be so nosey."

Chrisophe dropped this cigarette to the ground and stomped on it with his heel. "What was your fight about this morning?" Then he added, "And I'm only as nosey as you want me to be."

"My mom wants Stan and I to come down for Chanukah and stay for Christmas. Stan doesn't want to go, but I think it's important to spend this time of the year with our family. Then he found your cigarettes and blew up even further. He doubts my loyalty, and thinks I have an interest in you." Christophe's hand settled onto his shoulder and Kyle knocked it away. "Which I don't, but that's besides the point."

"So you're hiding out here," The tall, French man assessed. "A very strategic move, Broflovski. He knows exactly where to find you, and yet won't come around for fear of being exposed."

"You have to stay away from me." Kyle turned quickly, heading back towards the backdoor. "Scrap the plans, the meetings and everything we had going on. It's too dangerous now, not with Stan snooping around." The Jewish man's spirits fell further. "Maybe we can try again in a few months."

Christophe let him leave the alley with a dark look, but he wasn't willing to let Kyle leave his life completely.

Stan had only lost his temper further as the day progressed. Now, marching from his Chemistry class with Kenny at his side, Stan was allowing his anger to vent. The blonde boy, normally clothed in an orange parka, listened and offered what support he could. He only needed to duck a few times from Stan's animated talking.

"You should calm down before you see Kyle," Kenny suggested.

Stan shook slightly, fighting for control. "You mean if he comes home. You just wait, Kenny, just wait. Tonight I'll get a call from him and he'll tell me he's staying at Craig's or heaven forbid, Christophe's house. He'll give me this lame excuse about working late, or studying late, and he'll think he's flown right under the radar. Well, let me tell you, even with my practice, school and work, I'm able to see through his lies. He doesn't fool me, but he sure thinks he does."

"Seesh, man." Kenny dug through his pockets for his car keys. Lately he had been coming to see Stan and Kyle less and less, right around the time the relationship had begun to deteriorate. He attended a nearby Community College, and while driving over was no big deal, listening to either of them rant was. His friends were going off on totally unfounded theories, and destroying themselves more than anyone else. "Don't be a dork, you know Kyle's busy with work and he does study a lot. You know you don't honestly think Kyle is cheating on you."

Stan shrugged. "Not really, not on purpose. I just think he'll be moody and depressed like me, and Christophe can tempt or easily overpower him--"

The football player stumbled, less than graceful as Kenny knocked him over the back of his head with a book bag. "You're such an asshole, Stan. You don't go around assuming or insinuating friends rape each other. Christophe would never 'over power' him as you so tactfully said."

"Shut it. You haven't known him for nearly as long as Kyle and I."

They slid into Kenny's worn car and the blonde jerked the heater on right away.

"You just don't see," Stan tired again. "That piece of French shit is always looking at him, and, and," He stopped suddenly. He felt the beginning of tears on the edge of his eyes and his throat constricted. He was going to lose it, over his sweet boyfriend and a French guy who really didn't pose that much a threat to him. He refused to let Christophe get the better of him. Kyle wasn't Christophe's boyfriend, and he never would be.

He managed to feign a neutral expression. A change of topic was necessary.

"Kyle said you and Cindy aren't getting along. What the matter?"

Kenny shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot. "Nothing that the bitch can't fix with a bit of Midol." Then the blonde paused in his thoughts. When had the told Kyle he and Cindy were fighting again? The last time he had spoken to Kyle about her had been weeks ago, and the relationship had been fine at the time. Maybe he had and didn't realize it.

"Elaborate," Stan demanded.

"Eh, it's nothing," Kenny waved off. "She's just being a lazy douche. She's extra cranky, pissy and I swear to God, if she doesn't stop kicking me out of the bedroom I'm moving out. I guess it's that time of the month, but damn, it's worse than ever." Kenny fumbled for a pack of cigarettes. "She's driving me up a wall, man. I'm going to lose it soon."

Stan paused for just a moment. "Oh, that reminds me." He dug through his book bag for a moment and retrieved a pack of cigarettes. "Kyle said you left these at our apartment yesterday. Take them off me, and try not to forget the nasty things again. Neither of us need the things littering our place."

Kenny took them back with a worried expression. "Dude," He began, not really knowing what to say. He certainly had not been over at their apartment yesterday. Actually, he had called Kyle with an intention of visiting, but the male had said he was expecting company the whole day. Suddenly Kenny wondered if his faith in Kyle had been misplaced. "Never mind, thanks. I'll try not to forget." Oh, he was certainly going to have a talk with Kyle, and rather soon. He wanted to know just what was going on.

"Listen," Stan said. "Thanks for just listening to me … rant, rave, talking, scream, whatever you want to call it. You know how I get from time to time."

"Yeah, sure." Kenny swallowed uneasily. Was he supposed to voice his concerns to Stan? And if he did, how would he? "So, do you want to swing by and see Kyle? He usually gets break during this time, right?"

After a brief moment of consideration Stan shook his head. "Nah, let's just head back to the apartment. Kyle gets off at six."

At eight Kyle called home. He left a quick message on the answering machine--he was going to be working extra late-- and hung up his uniform. Going back home to Stan just didn't seem like an option. He didn't want to fight with him, or worse, sit in silence. He had a hunch if he did that his mind would betray him.

He gave a wave to Christophe's mother, Marie, and headed out the door. Halfway to his car his shoulder was caught. He jerked backwards and spun quickly, hoping to catch his attacker off balance.

"Gracious God!" He managed to catch himself just before his fist connected with Christophe's nose.

"Woah, there, Kyle. What's with the reaction times?"

Kyle wanted to tell him he and Stan had taken classes. Together they were safe enough, but in a homophobic, redneck town like South Park, being separated was never a smart idea. They had taken the class in an attempt to better prepare themselves for a hostile world, and now it proved that class was an asset. However, in reply to Christophe's question he answered, "It's that Jewish blood, Mole. Not my fault you can't keep up."

Christophe ignored that. "I take it you're going to sulk? And probably in a park."

Kyle took a step away from the male, disliking the direction of the conversation. "Why can't you leave me alone? I'm not in the mood to play. I've spent the past twelve plus hours feeling sorry for myself, and I can have a few more hours if I want."

"Not when you're going out to get hypothermia." Kyle gave him a questioning look and Christophe looked rather smug. "Yes, I know about the last time you were like this--last week, matter of fact. Spent all night in the park's parking lot, in the freezing cold. Do you know how stupid that is in Colorado?"

How did Christophe know?

"I can't go home."

"Don't."

The two men shared a look, neither able to read the other's expression. Christophe caved first. "I mean, if you won't go home to Stan, you better come home with me."

"Oh, no." Without warning Kyle turned on heel and rushed towards his car.

By the time Christophe caught him again, they were in front of Kyle's car. In a mere second Kyle's reflexes failed him and Christophe had him pinned against the Chevy.

"Listen, Broflovski," Christophe told him, in a slow voice. "I may want to be your lover, but I get I'm not. However," and he stressed the however, "I am your friend, and I will not allow you to go freeze to death in a parking lot some where. If you aren't going back to Stan, you sure as hell are coming with me. I'll pick you up, throw you in my truck and kidnap you if necessary. So don't fuck with me, Kyle, just don't."

Kyle felt a flash of fear, along with the car's metal pressing into his back. Christophe's eyes told him there wasn't any way out of the situation. Rather, he wasn't getting out other than what Christophe approved of. In the back parking lot, in the evening hours Christophe clearly had the advantage. He was taller, stronger and heavier. Kyle understood he didn't stand a chance, even with years of self defense. Stan's concerned flashed in his mind, and suddenly he did want to go home to his boyfriend. The wonderful male who cooked an awesome tomato soup, and the same man who gave great massages. The man Kyle had loved for the longest amount of time.

Despite his mind's change, the pressure Christophe was pushing on him caused his breath to catch in his chest and he replied, "Alright." Then before he knew it, Christophe was dragging him over to his truck.

"I'll bring you back to the restaurant tomorrow, and you can pick up your car then." He buckled himself into Christophe's tuck as the other asked, "Do you need to call Stan and tell him?"

Low blow, he realized. Chistophe knew he wouldn't. His mind screamed yes, but a simple no came out, and they were on their way. Halfway to Christophe's house Kyle was reconsidering just what the French man's intentions were.


	3. Eric Cartman

**Timeless**

**Chapter Three: Eric Cartman**

**Summary: Kyle, uncomfortable with Christophe's attention decides to come clean, and in the process runs into an old friend. **

**Disclaimer: See first chapter**

**Warnings: Slash, grammar mistakes on my part, and some pretty foul language.**

**Authors notes: I apologize a head of time. While I had the whole story planned out, I've begun to derail from that layout. The story is evolving much differently than I imagined, and for that reason I beg forgiveness for contradictions, mistakes and pretty much anything else that doesn't make sense. I'm rearranging and trying to make things fit that didn't before. Stick with me while I work the kinks out.**

Chapter Three: Eric Cartman

Kyle found it almost impossible to sleep. He spent most of the night wide awake, clutching a pillow to his chest. Occasionally his eyes would wander to Christophe's front door, and brief thoughts of running fast and far invaded his mind. Yet he held his ground on the soft sofa, having refused Christophe's bed.

Part of him was nervous, even if it was silly to be. This wasn't the first time he had spent the night at Chrisophe's apartment, and when he did it usually wasn't on the French man's sofa. But something about their confrontation in the parking lot had unnerved him. It was as if for the first time he was truly seeing how ….well, he couldn't think of the right words for Chrisophe's behavior, but it certainly had shaken him. Possessive, demanding, urgent, desperate …dangerous. Those were the words he could come up with, even if they weren't completely accurate.

Nearly twice he had reached for the phone. He wondered if Stan was worried--of course he was. The caring football player had to be worried out of his mind. Kyle hadn't said he wasn't coming home, only that he was working late. Did Stan think something horrible had happened to him? Did Stan think he was hurt? Was Stan out looking for him?

Kyle felt like trash. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to take things so far. He was running and hiding from Stan, not to mention lying to him. He found himself near a man who had a strong interest in him, far too often and was allowing other people to manipulate him.

He realized now he ought to just tell Stan the truth. While his mother might be the one causing the friction in their relationship to amplify, the lies were at the very beginning of it. He should never have taken Christophe up on his offer. It had led to nothing but troubles, and left him feeling like crap. Maybe if he told Stan everything the male could forgive him and they could attempt to salvage their relationship. And if that happened, Kyle promised himself he'd deal with his mother.

Just past six in the morning Kyle gathered up his belongings. He grabbed his shoes, slipped them on silently and ran a quick hand through his hair. After only a brief pause he disable Chrisophe's alarm and slipped out of the townhouse.

It was a long walk back to the restaurant, and it was deathly cold. His jacket seemed far too thin and he realized he had lost his gloves somewhere. He couldn't feel his nose, ears or hands for that matter, and yet it didn't bother him so much. Soon he lost feeling in his toes, and he realized it was snowing. The snow melted on him and he became drenched, not half way to the restaurant. When he passed the Ice Cream Palace he wondered if he'd even make it to his destination. It was becoming increasingly colder, not to mention harder to breathe.

A particularly strong gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet and he leaned against a building. Stan was always telling him he never stopped to think. If he had, he wouldn't be out in the beginning of a blizzard, with one coat and no hope of finding somewhere to duck in from the snow. There was a strong chance is legs weren't going to support him much longer, and that meant going down onto the snow covered ground. If that happened, his fate was sealed.

"How much for a blow job, fag?"

An annoying voice shook him out of his thoughts. "Not enough money in the world for you, fat ass." He was thinking much slower, even if he mouth wasn't waiting. Then the voice sunk in, and he realized whom it belonged to. "Cartman? What the hell are you doing here?"

Kyle tried to think. Cartman wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here. The little asshole had actually done something with his life. The jerk had skipped right over college, and with his mother's bank account had founded his own company. Within the span of a mere three years he had expanded through the whole United States. Last time he had heard from Eric Cartman the arrogant businessman was lying on a beach in Maui, drinking margaritas.

"I'll tell you once you get your Jew ass in my car." Kyle eyed the black BMW cautiously. "Hurry it up, I don't have all day. And try not to touch anything!"

Kyle was thankful for the expensive heater in the car, even if it did little. Buckled in Kyle took in the appearance of his old friend, and noted he changes. Cartman was certainly in the prime of his life. He had slimmed down some, but was still a bit on the heavy side, though not dangerously. Even seated it was apparent he had gained extra height somewhere, and his hair shined even in the dull winter. A flawless face and the evident confidence had Kyle stunned. Eric Cartman was actually attractive, and that was saying something.

"Business brought me here." Eric explained, tone of voice giving way to a very hidden reasons.

Kyle caught this. "God, Eric, what're you doing? Selling drugs?" Eric just glared.

"So what's your problem? Even you know better than to wander the streets when it's this cold."

"I was going to my car. I didn't think the storm would roll in so fast. Plus, I'd rather have taken my chance on the streets than at Chrisophe's apartment."

"What?" Eric stopped at a particularly long red light. "You and Stan broke up? You fags were inseparable in high school."

"Shut it, you asshole, you're one to talk," Kyle reminded him.

Eric corrected, "I am multitalented, idiot. I make the girls and the boys moan, and don't get pissy because you can't."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Stan and I have not broken up. I'm just not sure where we stand." Kyle twisted his hands in his lap, and looked over to stare Eric down. "Cartman, we've never been the best of friends, and we've hardly ever gotten along, but," and at this Eric turned to look at him. "You've always been brutally honest, and I appreciate that."

Eric gave him a sobering look. "Something's seriously wrong?"

Kyle nodded. "I fucked up, and I'm stuck."

With a low growl Eric turned sharply onto a side street and parked. "You owe me, Jew. Now spit it all out."

And without thinking twice Kyle told him everything. How his mother was breaking them apart, how he and Stan were fighting every day, and Christophe's interest in him. He mentioned softly he was spending a lot of time at Chrisophe's but did not include his reason. He was sure to add Stan's suspicions, and finished with Christophe's strange behavior.

"Last night I decided nothing is worth risking the relationship I have with Stan, but by that time Chrisophe wasn't willing to let me go. I'm not saying he forced me, but it certainly felt like it. He just gave me this look that made me so cold, and so scared. I'm not a whiny little pussy, Eric, but I sure felt like it at that moment. When he shoved me against that car I thought the worst, and I saw it in his eyes, too. At his apartment he blocked the front door off practically, and he--" Kyle looked away, not willing to share the rest of the story.

Eric sighed. He'd get it out of Kyle eventually. "Are you going to tell Stan?"

"No," Kyle shook his head, coughing deeply. He could already feel himself getting sick. "It would be wrong. Christophe has always been there for me when Stan couldn't, and lately he's done a lot for me. Plus, Chrisophe has never--" He wanted to say forced him, but after the previous night that wasn't possible.

"Last night I got the feeling--" Kyle tried to continue, but just couldn't. "Eric, I don't know what to do. I've dug myself into a deep hole. While I'd never suspect Chrisophe of doing anything to me I didn't want, last night I was really deathly scared. The way he was touching me and talking to me was just wrong. It was so different than all the other times we'd been together."

While it was obvious Kyle Brovflovski wasn't Eric Cartman's favorite person, they had been ….friends for many, many years. They knew more about each other than probably necessary, and despite it all, they did care what happened to the other. That said, Eric was beginning to actually worry for Kyle. He had hardly ever seen the redhead so shaken, and there was truly some conflict in his mind. Something was working Kyle Broflovski over, and rather hard, nor was Christophe helping the situation.

"What did he do to you last night?"

His head was pounding, his chest was aching and despite the heater, he didn't feel any warmer.

"Nothing, really." Kyle squirmed, an indication he was lying.

"Don't make me beat it out of you."

Kyle said, "The whole night Christophe just made me feel weird and uncomfortable. I feel so goddamned stupid. I'm accusing my friend of wanted to take advantage of me, pissing my mother off, fucking up the perfect relationship and--"

He couldn't help it. He didn't want to. Cry seemed like the only thing to do in the current situation. Curling in on himself he sobbed, harder than ever before.

"Suck it up, you damn Jew."

He hadn't expected Eric to comfort him, but he certainly hadn't wanted that little comment.

"You appreciate my honestly, right? This is exactly what you need to do." Kyle's eyes were red and splotchy, and his vision blurry, but he managed to give Eric an encouraging nod. "Go sit your ass down with the three people you've either fucked over, or are being fucking over by. You tell Christophe to step off, tell your mother to fuck off, and you come clean to Stan. If you don't want to cry yourself into an early grave, that's what you do, Broflovski."

"It isn't that simple."

Eric didn't know the entirety of the situation, and while he would have handled the situation very differently, he understood what Kyle was saying. Christophe was ….hard to understand, and even harder to avoid when he locked onto you. Kyle's mom was …well, she was a bit, giant, uber bitch. He couldn't quite remember all the words to a childhood song about her, but he remembered enough. She made life hell for everyone purposely or not. And even harder was Stan. It was always harder when you loved the person.

They drove the rest of the way to Kyle's apartment in silence.

It seemed Kyle's health only worsened as they drove, and by the time they arrived in front of the apartment, the Jewish male was nearly unconscious. Eric made a few, rather rude comments and gathered Kyle up. He was less than careful as he dragged Kyle up the stairs to the top apartment, and nearly dropped the man as he leaned on the door bell.

Stan opened the door. He stood in shock, confused as to why his boyfriend was feverish, and collapsed on the ground, while Eric Cartman was huffing in an effort to catch is breath, doubled over.

"I've got something that belongs to you, Marsh."

"What's going on? Where'd you find him?" With fresh strength Stan was able to heft Kyle into his arms, allowing the fevered man to rest his head on a warm shoulder. In all honestly he wanted to drop the Jewish boy to the ground, give him a few kicks and then lock him out of their apartment. And he might have done just that if Stan hadn't realized just how out of it Kyle was. His boyfriend was certainly disorientated, and through half-lidded eyes he gazed around with an unfocused curiosity.

"Kenny! Help me out here?" Stan gestured for his guest to grab the door to the bedroom and open it for him. "Can you get his shoes off?" Stan was in the process of removing his boyfriend's wet clothing, with Kenny helping him.

"He was just walking around, feeling sorry for himself," Eric called from the bedroom doorway. "I made him get in my car." For one of the few times in his life, Eric Cartman felt himself unsure of how to approach a subject. So instead he merely watched Stan fuss over Kyle, making sure the male was settled and on the road to recovery.

When Stan closed the bedroom door, separating them from Kyle, Eric had finally found the appropriate way to begin.

"Stan, we have to talk." He greeted Kenny quickly as Stan fixed him a cup of coffee. "It's about Kyle."

Stan nodded for him to continue. "I take it you have a hunch why he didn't come home last night, or why he was wandering this morning."

Eric Cartman had no idea his coming words would begin a war of sorts. He had no way of knowing words could be so powerful. "It's about Christophe, and what he forced on Kyle last night. It's about what I think he did to Kyle."


	4. Aries

**Title: Timeless**

**Chapter Four: Aries**

**Summary: It's a bloodbath, folks, and all the secrets are out. Is Christophe dealt with, or is it only the beginning of their problems?**

**Disclaimer: See chapter one**

**Warnings: Nothing you don't know about already.**

**Authors notes: This chapter ran away from me. I wrote it over nearly a week, which isn't like me. Normally I write it all in one sitting, but this chapter just gave me trouble. Because of that this chapter became far too large. I never intended the chapter to go on so long, but I suppose it has a mind of its own.**

Chapter Four: Aries

Kyle was extremely disorientated the next time he awoke. Blinking rapidly he was able to deduce his location, but not how he came to be. His last lucid memory was that of Eric Cartman. They had been in his car talking. Eric was taking him home to Stan.

Kyle froze, clinging to the heavy blanket Stan especially loved. What exactly had he told Eric? He had been less than aware of most of the things coming from his mouth, and even less aware of his thoughts. He wanted to believe Eric didn't know anything, but Kyle knew otherwise. He had been holding the anger and the sorry and all the other emotions in for too long, and they had come out like a flood.

Dressed in Stan's pajamas, Kyle climbed from the bed. The room was empty, and he couldn't hear anything from behind the closed bedroom door. The room was dark, and from that he realized it was either extremely early in the morning or late at night. Either way, where was Stan?

Glancing down at the answering machine Kyle noted the flashing number of messages. Next to it the phone clock read nine at night. With a slight sigh he reached down, pressing the play button.

"_Kyle, where are you?" _

Kyle froze at Christophe's voice.

"_I woke this morning and you were missing. Did you go home early? Did you call Stan? Call me, Broflovski. We need to talk about last night. Err, you know, about everything. Call me."_

He deleted the message right away. The Third message began.

"_Kyle, this is Christophe, you call me now! Where are you? Just call me. Did something happen with Stan? You know you're always welcome at my house. Come over as soon as you get this. I need you to, Kyle."_

That was slightly frightening him. But before long the third message was going.

"_Kyle Broflovski, young man, you pick up the phone! If you're there you had better pick up the phone. We need to talk about Chanukah. Call me, sweetie, I'm not mad about last time."_

Kyle rolled his eyes. His mother would never change.

The forth message was from a friend in his Chemistry class, wondering where he was, and the fifth was from Ike. His younger brother's tone gave a clear indication that their mother was standing behind him. Ike asked sweetly if Stan would please come visit him for Chanukah, however hidden in his voice was a clear warning. Ike was practically screaming at him to stay away if he valued sanity.

He grabbed a hoddie from the closet and slipped it over his head. There was a lingering ache in his head, and his lungs were still burning with each deep breath. That told him right away he had been sick. Then again, he had been walking around in the freezing cold. It would have been a miracle to come out fine.

He stumbled from the master bedroom, still a bit uneasy on his feet. Yawning loudly he flopped onto the living room sofa, blinking confused eyes at Eric and Kenny.

"What're you guys doing here?" He looked around, hoping to find his boyfriend. "Where's Stan?"

"He went out," Kenny answered him awkwardly. "We promised to sit with you."

Kyle raised an eyebrow and tucked his feet beneath him. "Okay, do you know when he'll be back?"

There was something wrong with the situation, Kyle observed. Eric wouldn't look near him, and Kenny radiated sympathy. The two others knew something, and they weren't keen on sharing.

"We don't," Eric told him oddly. His tone was … the same as Kenny's, a sympathetic, or apologetic tone. "We don't quite know if he'll even be coming back."

So that was it? Stan was gone. Kyle had spilled his guts out to Eric and in return he had told Stan. "Oh." That was that. He had brought it down on himself.

"We're sorry," And Kenny really sounded it. "We tried to stop him."

Curling in on himself Kyle felt nothing. He wanted to cry. He wanted to desperately sob and hug his pillow, or even call his mother. He wanted to run after Stan and beg him to stay. He hadn't meant to screw things up with the man he loved, and now it was all over. Kyle has lost the one person in the world he loved more than life.

"No, guys, it's okay. I mean, really, I should have expected this. I was just trying to, well, I don't know what I was trying to do, but it wasn't this. I never meant to cause this crap. Stan had every right to react the way he did. If he never came back I'd get what I deserve. I'm surprised he didn't leave me sooner." He was rambling, and aware of his rambling, but couldn't stop.

When he finally did, and looked up at this two friends he met mirror looks of confusion, and fear.

"What are you talking about?" Kenny wondered. "Stan didn't leave you. Hell, what he's doing is for you. We tried to stop him, but he's going to take care of business."

Utterly confused Kyle frowned. "If he didn't leave me, where'd he go? You just said you were sorry. He left me, because of Christophe."

"No, you stupid Jew," Eric bit back. "He's going to get his ass thrown in jail over you. He went after Christophe just a while ago."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Kyle," Kenny snapped his fingers, drawing attention. "We know what Christophe did to you. When Stan found out he flipped and flew out of here like a bat out of hell. He's probably promptly kicking Christophe's ass, or worse. So when we say he might not be coming back, it might be because he's facing jail time."

Kyle sprung to his feet. "But Christophe didn't do anything to me!"

"That isn't what you implied last night. Your dumb ass was rambling off about this and that, not to mention how uncomfortable he made you. When I asked you what he did last night you evaded my question. One can only assume."

"Fuck your assumptions." He nearly vaulted over the sofa, racing towards his shoes and car keys.

"Your car isn't here," Kenny pointed out, and the Jewish man cursed loudly.

"Christophe didn't violate you?"

The redhead was breathing raggedly. "Of course not. Heaven knows he wants to, and he tried, but I pushed him off and told him not to attempt anything again. Fuck, Cartman, you make it seem like he raped me." Further realization dawned on Kyle. "Kenny, give me your car keys, now."

"No way." Zipping up his own jacke Kenny frowned. "You're still sick, and in no condition to drive. I'll take you. Eric, can you follow us in your car?"

They headed out together in a mad rush, hoping to find Stan Marsh, hands free of blood.

What they found instead, after Eric Cartman had managed to kick in Christophe's front door, was Stan and Christophe, collapsed together covered in mixed blood. The apartment was a total mess, with objects broken and shattered left and right. It seemed Stan and Christophe had gotten into a fairly destructive fight before wearing each other out and collapsing. Neither was particularly small or weak, and Kyle could only imagine the rough fight they had engaged in.

Thank goodness both were conscious. Exhausted, bloody and in need of medical attention, but awake and alive.

Kyle collapsed down next to Stan, pulling the brunet onto his bent knees. "Oh, Stan, I'm so sorry." He couldn't stop his tears, and brush the ones that landed silently on Stan away.

"Should we call and ambulance?" Eric asked, watching Kenny check Christophe over.

Kyle bit down on his lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. His hands were becoming soaked with Stan's blood, and his boyfriend seemed ready to faint. "No--no, but we should take them to the hospital. Get them looked over." Running his hands down Stan's side he could feel injured ribs.

"Fine," Eric huffed. "But if that French piece of shit gets blood in my car it's on, Brovlofski, it's on."

While Stan and Chrisophe were bleeding, it wasn't life threatening, and being such they were required to wait an extended amount of time in the Emergency waiting room. Mostly Kyle kept his arm wrapped tightly around Stan's broad shoulders. In return Stan clutched tightly onto his shirt. Occasionally the star football player would mumble incoherent words and tighten his grip on Kyle's shirt. The Jewish boy found it both troubling and affectionate at the same time.

Nearly half an hour after the group had reached the waiting room, Stan was lying on a medical table, being check over by a doctor. Across the hallway Kenny and Eric had agreed to wait with Christophe.

"He's banged himself up pretty bad," The doctor observed, and Kyle wasn't quite sure if she was addressing him, or herself. "Bruised ribs, sprained wrist, concussion, quite a nasty bump on the back of the head, and the nose is officially broken. We'd like to keep him over night, because of the severity of his concussion, but in the morning he'll be fine to go."

Kyle nodded, stroking the back of Stan's hand with a steady thumb. "Can I--can I stay the night?"

"Are you family?"

Kyle didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

The doctor tucked Stan's chart into the slot at the end of his bed. "Alright, I'll have someone bring you a pillow and blanket for the night. Page me right away if there is anything wrong, and he shouldn't move around a whole lot. Keep him awake for a while, at least until we're out of a danger zone. I'll get a nurse to alert you when it's safe for him to sleep." The doctor gave him a knowing look. "Do you hear me, Mr. Marsh?"

"Hmm, yeah," Stan offered her. "Awake, I get it." But he found he was feeling better, thanks to the IV and the painkillers being pumped into his body."

She left them quickly.

"I'm sorry, Stan," Kyle choked. "Eric's an idiot, and he didn't understand what I was saying."

For someone lying in a hospital bed, Stan gripped Kyle rather strongly. "Tell me right now what I want to know." Kyle agreed instantly. "I want to know if Christophe ever touched you in an inappropriate way, and you know what I mean."

Kyle chose his words carefully. "In the beginning, no. At first he wouldn't touch me at all. Right when I started working for his mom and dad, he pretended I didn't exist. I guess he warmed up to me, because we started hanging out." Oh, yes, Stan remembered when Kyle's Christophe stage started. "And then he told me he wanted to date me. And I told him no." There was little doubt of conviction in Kyle's words. He was strong now, and knew exactly what he wanted.

"And then?" Stan prompted, scooting to the side.

Kyle scurried up to lay next to Stan. "And then he started hugging me an awful lot. Gave me rides to places, and he was someone I could talk to when you were away in class or at work. He became super touchy, but Stan, he never did anything I didn't like. He was a perfect gentle man, and I respected him for that. You had nothing to worry about, because he understood us."

"Then what was Eric running his mouth about last night. He's known to make up some wild tales, but I doubt he'd claim you'd been molested, just for kicks. Not at this point in our relationship."

Kyle burrowed into Stan's side as softly as possible. "He probably thought I had been. When he picked me up I was lost and disorientated. I was sick."

"You still are." Concern laced Stan's voice as he noticed his partner's ragged condition. With skill he maneuvered himself slightly so he could wrap his uninjured arm around his boyfriend.

"I was coming home to you, Stan. That night I didn't come home wasn't my intention. I was just going to drive around a little, then come home. But Christophe saw me, and he took me home with him." Kyle couldn't bring himself to say forced, because Christophe hadn't really forced him. It wouldn't be fair to say forced. "And when we go there he told me he was tired of waiting. He wanted a relationship with me, Stan, but I wasn't going to give it to him. I knew what he wanted, and all I wanted was _you_."

Stan's face was set in stone. He reached a hand up to push the sleeve of Kyle's sweat shirt up. "And he just left you alone after you told him no? That's why there are hand marks here." Stan fingered the marks. He had seen them the previous night when changing his unconscious boyfriend's clothing.

"He grabbed me," Kyle admitted. "But he didn't mean to hurt me. He shook me around for a bit, but when he realized what he was doing he let me go. I made it clear there wouldn't ever be anything between he and I, and to the best of my knowledge he accepts that. I wasn't going to go near him for a while, Stan. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"You swear that's the truth?"

"Of course, Stan." Kyle was stiff next to him, shaking only the tinniest. "I swear. Do you hate me?"

Stan pressed a kiss to the top of Kyle's head. "Don't be insecure. I love you, dummy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. If we don't work out, I'll be heartbroken, because I really love you and need you, but I'll survive. However it will kill me if you're ever hurt. Eric had come bursting out with how Christophe had probably raped you, and I couldn't stand the thought of that. I went to talk with Christophe and he made it seem like--well, I'm not sure, but he set me off. All I could think was here is the guy who hurt my boyfriend. This is the man that is destroying Kyle Brovlofski. I love you more than anything else, and I can't ever just sit around and let someone hurt you."

"You didn't have to go over there. Christophe could press charges. We don't have the money for a lawyer, or any kind of settlement he'd want."

Stan shrugged painfully. "Nah, I doubt he'll press charges He threw the first punch."

Kyle blinked. "Why?"

"He really needed to relieve some tension," A new voice came from the door way. Kyle knew that voice. "Felt good, didn't it, Marsh?"

While neither boy had won the fight, Christophe seemed to be fairing just a bit better than Stan. He was supporting a badly damaged leg with crutches, and the bandage around his head soaking with a red color indicated a head wound.

"Get the hell out." Kyle's stomach sunk at the thought of Stan and Christophe engaging in another fight. "And you stay the hell away from Kyle, or I'll kick your ass."

"Because you did a fantastic job last time," Christophe's mouth ran away from him. "But since you're such a great, attentive boyfriend I'm sure Kyle had no problem playing the good housewife. I mean, that's what he's been doing for the past weeks, right?"

Kyle flopped suddenly backwards as Stan shot forward, detaching the IV from his arm. Kyle gave one yelp as he tumbled over the back of the bed, landing on the cold floor with a hard crunch and a snap. Stan paled and Christophe looked surprised.

"Are you alright?" Stan was at Kyle's side a second later. "Dude, your arm." And indeed Kyle's arm was bent in a rather nasty fashion, and in return the red-head's face reflected pain.

"Get the hell out," Stan called over his shoulder as he assisted Kyle to his feet. "It's probably broken," Stan observed, hesitant to touch the arm. "I think I see part of the bone."

Kyle was feeling faint, and leaned on Stan.

"I applaud you, Marsh," Christophe continued, Kenny and Eric appearing behind him. "I wouldn't stay with my boyfriend after he'd been fooling around on me. You're loyal, even if your other part isn't."

Kyle paled further, forgetting his pain momentarily. "What are you doing this, Christophe?"

"I don't care," Stan broke in, seating Kyle on his bed. He shook off momentary discomfort and willed the room to stop spinning. "No matter what you say, or how you bait us, I know Kyle far more than you could ever hope to. I know he's faithful, even if you don't."

"One day," Christophe said, adjusting his crutches. "Kyle, you'll see Stan isn't right for you. You can't bring him home to your mother, and he can't be there for you when you need him the most. One day you'll recognize how much you need me, and I'll be waiting. You'll realize what we had was worth everything."

"We never had anything."

Stan was jabbing the help button located next to his bed mercilessly as Christophe hobbled from the room. "Guys," Stan looked up, just now noticing his friends. "Kyle fell, can you go find a nurse?" He grumbled. "Since this stupid thing isn't working." They left soundlessly, and Stan sat next to Kyle.

"Well," The Jew inquired. "Don't you want to know?"

"Know what?"

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Marsh."

Stan wrinkled his forehead. "Honestly, Kyle, I don't care and I don't want to know. That's your business, and I won't ask."

Kyle cradled his arm, leaning sideways so his shoulder touched Stan's. "It isn't what you think, jock."

"Then what is it, bookworm?"

Kyle giggled softly. "I thought you weren't going to ask."

"I didn't think you'd tease me."

"Fair enough," Kyle allowed. "Christophe and I … we, never did anything. No matter what he says or tries to prove, believe me."

"Then why'd you meet with him so often? And it was all secret, which caused paranoia on my end. What were you and he doing?"

"Not doing," Kyle corrected. "Talking about. Christophe's family has a beach house in California. Near Santa Cruz, and it's going to be free in May." Stan wondered, but said nothing. "At first I just mentioned to him how every year to manage to surprise me with something great for our anniversary, and every year I feel like I can't measure up. Then I brought up the trip we took to California right before our senior year, and he told me his family had a beach house out there, but they never used it. Christophe promised to let us use it, and help me with all the planning if I met with him a couple times a week."

"It couldn't have taken that long to make plans."

Kyle shook his head. "It didn't, but it felt like he was baiting me. Every time I'd leave he'd almost make it seem like if I didn't come next time everything would be down the drain. And then after you started getting so suspicious he began subtly suggesting he could accidentally slip around you. I didn't know what to do, because I really wanted this year to be special. So I kept going, no matter how uncomfortable it was."

Stan seethed. "I'll kill him."

"Don't, Stan." Kyle's eyes slipped shut, his cold catching back up with him. "Christophe isn't a bad person. He never forced me into anything, and people can't help but acting a little crazy when they're in love."

Stan nodded, slipping an arm around Kyle's shoulders. "I get it." People did do crazy things when in love. Even Stan understood that much. Still, Chritophe was too close to crossing a line no one wanted to see. Stan would be on the look out from now on, and if he caught Christophe trying anything, God himself wouldn't be able to stop the ensuing blood bath.

"Oh, my," A young blonde nurse gasped, entering the room. "What happened here?"

Kyle pressed a quick kiss to Stan's lips, tongue darting out to taste his boyfriend. An instant later Stan had jerked him carefully forward and was devouring his mouth, his good hand traveling south.

Kyle shifted in his seat to press his knee against Stan's, and then broke away. "I fell." He hefted his arm upward.

"I can only imagine doing what," The nurse observed, leaving to page a doctor.


	5. Anteros

**Timeless**

**Chapter Five: Anteros **

**Summary: Kyle and Stan spend a little well earned time together, before yet another parting.**

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

**Authors notes: Sorry about the delay. I am in the hospital, and I had surgery a few days ago. I'm tired, doped up on medication and thinking poorly, but I am still working on this story. Also, you will note this chapter is sickeningly fluffy. After all that angst I desperately needed some fluff. Eric, Kenny, Christophe and the regular drama will be back soon. Also, as to the comment about Christophe being rather evil, don't fret. People do strange, weird things when in love, and he isn't honestly a bad character--though he will get worse before he gets better.**

Chapter Five: Anteros

Kyle sat perched on the edge of the bed she shared with Stan, watching his boyfriend pack clothes into a suitcase. He had tried to pack his own suitcase earlier, but found with only one arm, the task was almost impossible. So Stan had promptly launched into packing Kyle's suitcase, urging Kyle to rest himself.

"You just got out of the hospital," Kyle argued, pointing out his boyfriend's injuries.

"They're nearly superficial," Stan corrected. "I'm bruised and sprained, while you broke your arm, and a considerable amount of bones in your hand."

Kyle wanted to argue that but instead leaned back on the bed. "Sure you won't change your mind?" He asked, resting his aching arm softly on his stomach. "Your mom really wants to see you, and I really want you to come with me."

Stan packed the rest of Kyle's clothing and zipped the suitcase shut. "Nah, Kyle, I just really can't. I can't explain, but going this year isn't something I want to do." He flopped down next to Kyle, rubbing his boyfriend's chest in a soothing motion.

"I'm going to miss you." Kyle sneezed lightly. "I don't want to spend Chanukah and Christmas away from you." He couldn't help but nuzzle Stan's shoulder lightly.

In return the brunet nudged the suitcase to the ground and drew the woolen blankets over the both of them. "You don't have to go, you know. Just because your mother wants you there, doesn't mean it's your only option. You could stay here, just the two of us."

Kyle's lips trailed down Stan's throat, whispering promises and loving words. "I have to, you know. Plus, I haven't seen Ike in a while. Chanukah and Christmas is about being with family. You're my family Stan, but so are they. It's important I'm there."

"I'm just worried," Stan confessed. "I don't like you driving the icy and crowded roads, especially with your injury. Plus, you're still getting over your cold, and the medication tends to make you a bit sleepy at times. I worry because too much could happen."

Kyle accepted a sweet kiss from Stan, licking his lips at his boyfriend's maple taste. "I'll be fine. The car's an automatic, and we've already had the chains put on. I'm fine, honestly. Stop worrying yourself so much. I'll leave tomorrow, spend the week down there and be back before the first of the month."

Stan nodded, hugging Kyle close. "I just have a bad feeling."

"It'll be fine." Kyle sighed, but Stan didn't feel any better.

Kyle felt that as much as he wanted to spend Chanukah with his family, leaving right now put him on thin ice. His relationship with Stan was only just beginning to recover, and Kyle couldn't help but worry what would happen if he left his boyfriend alone for Christmas. Still, he had changed his finals around, taken shit from his peers and managed to talk his mother out of marching right up to the college to collect them both. He deserved this trip, and if Stan wasn't going to go, that wasn't Kyle's fault or problem.

"I, uh," He began softly. "I got a new job."

Stan looked at him with a questioning gaze. They locked in a staring contest, and Kyle turned away first. "Christophe's Mother, she was really upset, and tried to get me to stay, but I felt it was best if I didn't work there anymore. I've talk to my dad, and he's got an associate here who's willing to let me on in the firm. Mostly secretary work, but it'll give me some work experience in the field, and it pays well."

"If that's what you feel is best."

That was Stan's way of saying he approved.

"I do."

They made hot chocolate in the kitchen and cuddled together on the sofa in the living room.

"I could drive you down there." Stan handed Kyle two small pills and settled back, drawing his arm around his partner's narrow shoulders. "You know, pop in and see my mom."

"That'd be ridiculous, Stan, and you know it. Driving all the way down there is totally ridiculous, if you don't plan on staying for a while. Plus, I don't want you on the roads any more than you want me. It's dangerous this time of year, and the less people I love on the road, the better."

Stan ran a warm hand down his boyfriend's shirt, slipping it inside to rest on a pale stomach. "So you love me, huh?"

Kyle's breath hitched and he didn't dare to move. "So what if I do?" His palms began to sweat. "Got something to say about that?"

"Maybe." His fingers twitched, spreading.

"Stan--don't you dare."

The brunet raised an eyebrow. "Gonna try and stop me, Broflovski?"

"I-I mean it, Stan," He was contemplating his escape route when his boyfriend launched an attack. "Stan!" In a mere second the hot chocolate was forgotten as Stan's hands began to tickle Kyle mercilessly. No sympathy was shown for injury, though Stan did mind his boyfriend's broken bones.

Their tickle fight progressed into harmless kisses, and then shameful groping. And when Kyle and Stan lay on the floor, legs entwined, both understood the rest of the day was wasted on anything else. They melted together in warm embraces.

"I love you." Stan swallowed hard, reaching out to help Kyle off the hardwood floor.

"And I love you."

There were nearly eleven messages on their answering machine by noon. They didn't manage to answer any of them.

That evening Stan's worry had doubled, and if possible, so had Kyle's anxiety. The storm outside was picking up, and the local news was reporting roads would be closed soon. So instead of leaving the next day, Kyle was forced to push up his departure.

Stan handed Kyle his woolen blue scarf as they stood near the front door. "Got everything you need?"

"Yeah," Kyle double checked, more to reassure Stan than himself. "Make sure you turn the stove off after cooking, and only one cup of detergent when washing clothes. Oh, on second thought, don't wash at all. The last time you tried you mixed the colors and the whites and stained everything. You added way too much detergent, let the washing machine overflow and we spent the whole day cleaning it up. And don't run the dishwasher. It'll be slower to do it by hand, but far more safe. Oh, oh, and really, please remember to get the mail, put it in the right place and don't forget to wash the windows and vacuum the carpet in the bedroom."

Stan bit down on his tongue, afraid to stop Kyle mid-way through.

"I labeled the food in the refrigerator. It's all color coded and stickered for you. Match the sticker to the corresponding date on the chart and everything should be fine. There are double portions of light blue and forest green, for the days you have basketball practice, and don't worry about melon yellow, it's supposed to be that color."

"Yes, Martha Stewart."

"I heard that." Kyle gave Stan a light kiss. "I might be overdoing it … just a bit," He admitted. "But the last time I went away you almost burned down the apartment. Please try not to do that this time."

Stan sighed dramatically. "Kenny is only a call away."

"Kenny can't cook any better than you, and together you're liable to get him killed."

"No," Stan confessed. "But together I'm sure the both of us can dig up enough money to order something in."

Kyle contemplated Stan for a moment. "Do you need me to leave you any money? Don't be ashamed to ask, Stan, honestly."

"No!"

Kyle stood still, almost taken back. "Alright, Mr. Independent. Can you grab my bag?" With a flick of the wrist he gestured to the small black bag sitting in the kitchen.

"Did you make sure everything was in it?" Stan unzipped it, shuffling through the contents in the bag.

"Yes." Subconsciously Kyle rubbed at the spot his donated kidney rested. All those years ago nephropathy had put him in Eric Cartman's debt, and Kyle felt he would never be free of it. Being a Type 1 diabetic he felt he'd always be in _someone's _debt. It might be Eric for the kidney, or Kenny for pumping Insulin in him after a missed dosage. Or even Stan for recognizing, heaven forbid, if he slipped into a diabetic coma. He had learned to live with the burden of relying on others, but would never truly clear it from his conscious.

"Yeah, it all looks here." Stan handed him the bag. "Call the doctor right away if you feel something is wrong. Especially double check your blood sugar around your mother. She stresses you out, and when you get stressed out you forget to take your shots, or easily miscalculate a dosage. Don't let her affect you. Call me if you need anything."

"Yes, mother," Kyle murmured, allowing Stan to kiss his forehead.

Stan laughed. "You mother me just as much as I mother you. Don't act otherwise."

"Okay."

"Ready to brave the storm?"

They raced together down to Kyle's recovered car. Stan settled Kyle into the driver's seat and rushed around, slipping into the passenger side. "Turn on the fucking heater," Stan hissed, watching Kyle fumble for his keys.

"You'll say hi to Ike for me, right?"

Kyle nodded, cranking the heater up. "Mom's really upset he wants to attend college here with us."

"That kid's IQ makes me sick sometimes." Stan chuckled. "He should be in high school, not thinking about college."

"He's purposely not going to Harvard just to spite her. The little dip actually knows how to annoy our mother and not get caught."

"Pick up some tips from him, won't you?" Stan nearly pleaded.

Kyle pushed himself over and onto Stan's lap. He had to duck his head down, but he fit.

"I told you I'm going to work extra hard this holiday. I'm putting my foot down with my mother. She isn't going to interrupt our lives any more."

Stan's legs began to cramp, but he said nothing. "I bet she's glad I'm not coming, right? No little Christian boy in her home, polluting her perfect Chanukah. No evil man sharing her precious, innocent boy's bed."

"She isn't glad," His tone was annoyance.

"She's ecstatic," Stan corrected.

Kyle laughed deeply, sniffing and pressing his warm nose into Stan's neck. "Maybe just a little."

"Call me when you get there?

The red head nodded, placing his cool hands on Stan's face. "I'll see you in a while." He dipped down to plant a chaste kiss on Stan's lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The holidays were bound to be anything but happy, both realized.


	6. Elijah Rosenberg

**Title: Timeless**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Kenny keeps Stan company while Kyle meets Elijah, a dedicated traditional Jew who seeks to show him the error of his ways. **

**Authors Notes: See, it isn't half as dead as everyone probably thought**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I probably don't own it.**

**Warning: This contains slash, and any grammar mistakes I make but don't catch.**

Chapter Six: Elijah Rosenberg

Stan peered accusingly at the plastic container in his grasp. The label read gray which meant he was supposed to eat it today, but he hadn't eaten the burgundy yesterday or the plumb the day before that. He lifted the lid to peer down at a substance which was fairly pale in color, then took a quick smell.

Kenny leaned over his shoulder. "You gonna eat that?" Stan turned it over to him without a second glance. "Dude, what' wrong?" Kenny asked him, fishing for a fork from the dishwasher. "While I'm painfully aware you can't cook to save your life, Kyle can. I don't care what he's making, it always tastes damn good."

"Yeah," Stan agreed, nudging the refrigerator door closed with his foot.

"This isn't about it being the fridge for a few days, is it?"

Stan swiped a packet of crackers off the table. "Nah, Kyle's food would be good a year from now. I'm just totally not hungry."

Kenny thrust an accusing fork out at him. "You miss him."

"No, I don't," Stan denied. "I'm not married to the guy, and I'm not going to have a nervous breakdown because he's gone for a week."

Shoveling what tasted like a macaroni casserole into his mouth, Kenny frowned at him. "I didn't say anything about having a nervous break down," He said, mouth full. "But you get super attached to people, Stan, and Kyle most of all. I bet you'll be wetting yourself in anticipation for his arrival."

"Ooh, you said a big word, bravo."

"Better believe it."

Kenny leaned forward to open the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. "What do you plan on doing this Christmas, without Kyle and all." Kenny wandered into the apartment's living room and flopped down on the sofa.

"Nothing much," The quarterback called to him. "Open a few presents, watch some sappy-ass made for TV movies and sleep." The voice became stronger to Kenny's ears as Stan appeared in view. "Call Kyle," He admitted. "A lot."

Careful of his injured ribs Stan sat slowly on the armchair adjacent to the sofa. "If I want to keep my spot on the basketball team, among others, I've got to get these ribs healed up, and the wrist."

"Lucky, I'm stuck with Cindy and her cunt mother for Christmas."

Stan laughed. "You're being initiated into the family. You know if this goes any further you'll have to marry her."

Fearful eyes turned on Stan. "Tell me about it. I don't want to get married to her any more than you want to marry Kyle."

"Hey!" Stan's stomach flipped. "Being married to Kyle wouldn't be so bad."

"Only 'cause he takes care of you."

No, it was way more than that. Kyle was his soul mate, Stan was damn sure. Kyle was his real motivation in just about everything he did. The Jewish redhead made him complete, and made him feel important. That was what married couples were supposed to inspire in each other. Stan felt the only thing he and Kyle really lacked happened to be the paper that made it so. However he and Kyle had decided not to discuss it, and Stan didn't want to attempt asking their parents for blessings before they graduated college.

"Stan?"

Kenny tapped his friend roughly on the head as he passed by into the kitchen. "Pull yourself out of your Kyle fantasy, lover boy." He dumped the plastic bowl into the sink and ran some water into the container. "You aren't really thinking of marriage or a civil union, are you?"

"Sort of," Stan confessed. "Maybe, one day. I know Kyle wouldn't mind it, but I get the feeling he's willing to wait until we can get married legally in our own state. I figure being married to him would be cool--"

"Considering you already act like you are," Kenny interrupted.

"Sure, sure. I figure if Kyle wants something really bad, it's my job to give it to him. I love him and he loves me, so we should get married, right?"

Kenny pitched a shoe at his head. "And buy a house and have a kid and bring democracy to Cuba. Stuff it, you're making me sick."

"Didn't Kyle bring democracy to Cuba?"

"Fluke."

"And don't you think it might be a bit hard for Kyle or myself to conceive a child?"

"Believe me, I've slept on your sofa and it wouldn't be from lack of trying."

The call of pervert carried through the apartment.

With his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, Kyle could feel the drool trickle from the side of his mouth and down his hand. He blinked lethargically but made no attempt to stop the flow. Across from him he noted his younger brother mirroring what he perceived to be his own expression.

"Told you to stay away," Ike told him. "I can't be held responsible for any injuries that might arise from this visit, psychological or otherwise."

"Noted."

Kyle's eyes drifted over towards the visible living room. His hands dropped onto the kitchen table in front of him. His eyes widened in alarm and he moved his sleeve to wipe the drool away. "Ike," He said, reaching for his younger brother. "Ike, who's that mom is talking to? Why is she pointing in my direction."

"Ah, you've spotted her secret weapon."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kyle rose and moved his chair closer to Ike. "What's going on?"

"Mom's speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg, the newest members of the South Park Synagogue. Moved into the neighborhood about six months ago and became mom's new best friends the moment she learned they had a--"

"A son," Kyle completed.

"Oh, you bet your bottom dollar. You're looking at Elijah Rosenberg. He's twenty-three, just graduated from a prestigious Jewish school in New York and is working for some big Jewish firm. He's about as traditional as you can get in the Jewish faith and of course mom thinks that's practically the greatest thing ever. He's good looking, going great places and most importantly, _Jewish_."

Kyle tore his eyes away from the tall brunet and back to his brother. "Thank you, 411. What's she planning?"

Ike raised his eyebrows, giving his brother an incredible look. "Are you serious?"

"I get it, I get it."

Kyle ducked his head down as Elijah Rosenberg looked over towards him, probably at his mother's insistence. Kyle couldn't deny the male was good looking, and had his heart not belong to Stan he might have been interested. Yes, Kyle could see Elijah was a good match for him, if he were a nice, traditional, good Jewish boy. Certainly if he wasn't a Jew who had moved away from his aging mother and was currently living in sin with a Christian.

"What about you?" Kyle wheeled around on his brother. "Why do you get off scot-free?"

"You're kidding right? The Rosenberg's have a daughter right around my age. I'm pretty sure Mom's trying to arrange a marriage or two as we speak." The Canadian born teen froze. "Look, there she is, there's Judith." Ike cringed, ducking down like his older brother had moments ago.

With a sour expression that hinted to horror, Kyle reached out to pat his brother sympathetically. Elijah was an Adonis in comparison to his younger sister.

Then Kyle was all too aware of his mother beckoning him over, more like frantically gesturing to him. She was silently telling him he had less than thirty seconds to present himself before she let hell on earth reign down upon the house.

"I've got to go." Kyle stood, brushing down his shirt. "The Executioner calls."

Ike raised his head to nod. "May your death be swift and painless."

Elijah Rosenberg was taller than Kyle had imagined. While Stan stood only mere inches over him, Elijah toppled by almost half a foot. He smiled a wide smile which only helped to compliment his already handsome features. Aside from a stray hair or two his brown hair held perfectly to his face, indicating he either had and overly fussy mother or was completely vain.

"Kyle Broflovski," He greeted, holding his uninjured hand out.

"Good Week," Elijah counted traditionally. "Elijah Rosenberg."

Elijah had only momentarily clasped his outstretched hand when Shelia Broflovski nearly squealed, and definitely turned the attention of the small get-together towards her. "It's wonderful," She exclaimed, settling her hands over theirs to hold them together. "I can just see you boys are going to get off to a great start. "Why don't you take Elijah up to your old room, Kyle." With her other hand settling onto Kyle's shoulder it was clear it was not negotiable.

Kyle nodded to Elijah. "Sure, follow me."

"You're attending a university up in Northern Colorado?" Elijah questioned in Kyle's room, scanning the pictures and item contained within.

Kyle settled onto the edge of his bed, cradling his injured wrist in his lap. He hadn't taken any painkillers recently and felt the need to do so soon. "Yeah, I'm a senior. I hear you graduated last year, from New York."

Elijah turned piercing blue eyes on him. "It was a private college in upstate." He turned back to a shelf he had been looking at and pulled a picture frame off it. "Who's this?" He asked, pointing to the picture.

"That's Stan." Kyle smiled.

"Boyfriend?"

"Going on six years in February. How'd you guess?"

Elijah shrugged. "You two just look comfortable together."

"We are best friends."

"That and your mother was pressing me to ask you out, which probably is an indication she doesn't like the guy you're dating now."

Kyle leaned backwards, resting his back on the bed. "She was fine with Stan pretty much the whole time we were in high school. I guess she thought I'd out grow him and that I'd go off to some huge college and he'd go to Colorado State. She didn't plan on him getting the scholarship or me going with him."

"So he's the reason you decide to attend a Colorado University?"

"Partly," Kyle said, "Mostly. I've loved Stan for a long time and we're pretty much partners in everything we do. It was easier for me to go with him then for him to attempt to find a college near mine that would support him on a scholarship."

Elijah sat next to Kyle. "That's sweet, if not totally inappropriate."

"What?" Kyle's tone took a turn of anger and he hoisted himself up.

Elijah seemed innocent enough. "We're Jewish, Kyle. Despite being bisexual or homosexual, whichever you prefer, we are still Jewish. We abide by Jewish law, follow the customs and most strongly believe in our God. You have been fully aware of your actions for a very long time, I'd guess. You know no matter how much you love Stan, he'll never be accepted into the family as your partner and he'll never be a part of your religion. He isn't Jewish, and in our religion that means everything."

"Maybe it's that way for you, and while I respect my religion and embrace it, I refuse to let it rule my life. I love Stan and I'm betting on spending the rest of my life with him. I don't care that he isn't Jewish. I _love _him the way he is."

"You can say that all you want," Elijah told him. "But realistically you know you your life would be easier if he were Jewish. You know your mother wouldn't work herself into high blood pressure and your family wouldn't have to work endlessly to survive her wrath. You know your family and your Synagogue expects you to settle down with a nice girl an have some nice Jewish kids, but realistically that isn't going to happen, so at the very least you can have a Jewish partner."

The hurtful words cut towards Kyle who peered questioningly at Elijah. "A nice Jewish boy like you? Who broke your heart and told you these things? Who did you love that wasn't Jewish?"

Elijah merely caught his shoulders and pulled him close. "Just listen to me, listen to what I'm saying. I know you love Stan and that important, but if you continue to be his partner, you'll have to choose. Eventually it will come down to your faith or him. Will you be prepared to make the right choice? Not the choice that you want but the choice that you need to make."

"For crying out loud." Kyle shrugged out of his grasp. "It's just religion. I've never let my religion consume me in the past, and it has never dictated what I choose in life. I won't be like you and I won't let you blow the issue up into something huge. It's religion and with or without it I will live with, love and fuck Stanley Marsh. If God has a problem with that, he can take it up with my personally."

With that he stormed from the room, refusing to allow Elijah to know just how concerned he actually was.


End file.
